Taming A Wolverine
by PukkaPudding
Summary: Lauren grew up wanting to be like the superheroes in her comic books. But when that became reality, she knew she should've wished for a pony just like all the other kids. Being a mutant was anything but easy. Could she learn to control her powers at Xavier's school? And more importantly, could she keep her Mountain Dew safe from Logan? [LoganxOC]


I tried to make Lauren a bit more realistic. Not amazingly gorgeous or naturally good at everything. Just your average lost teenager, who's trying to find her place in life.

Anyway, I hope you guys like it.

**Edit: **I took some time to polish the chapter a bit. For what feels like the 45th time, I might add. This time, I added and fixed a lot of things, though, so I thought it'd be worth to mention.

* * *

><p>Do you ever wake up and wish you could be someone else? Someone naturally beautiful that doesn't have to bother with make-up in the morning to look good? Someone with a great figure that can eat anything and still look amazing? Someone so smart, your mere presence in a classroom produces good grades? Well, I've been practicing the ritual of wishful thinking religiously every day. And let me tell you, I'd be ready to give my soul just to be someone like that for one day.<p>

But considering everything I'd gone through the past few months, I knew even if I ended up selling my pitiful soul to some magical red man with horns, this day of glory I yearned for wouldn't come. At the point I was at, I'd be fortunate to get through university without killing anyone and even more so if I could manage to meet an employer mad enough to give a mutant with my kind of powers a job.

Hmm, now that I think about it, I think I _have_ met the devil. He went by the name of Charles Xavier and had a very pleasant voice – something a handler of souls ought to have, I'd say. Wasn't I selling my soul to him in a way? Merely a week after my powers showed, he called my parents and me in an effort to present an idea. A slightly odd and unexpected one. He proposed I stay in an institution, a school for mutants, created to ensure them control over their powers and consequently a better future. We entertained the idea for a few days before we all decided. It sounded too crazy for us to agree, though, right?

Well, considering at this very moment, barely a couple months after his call, we were on a flight to New York, you can imagine what our decision was.

"Mum, please stop it. People are staring at us."

"Well, maybe if you brushed your hair, I wouldn't have to do this, would I? Now sit still, I don't want you looking like that. My lord, Lauren, what do you do in the mornings?"

My jaw dropped slightly. What was she trying to say? "I _did_ comb my hair! Leave it be, will you?"

Yeah, that was my mum. A crazy little lady that couldn't keep her hands off me because, according to her, I was "always a mess". Can you imagine how embarrassing it was to be with her in public? Tsh, "what do you do in the mornings", she asks! Can you imagine? As if it's my fault my hair has a mind of its own! I'd always reckoned it's possessed. When you think about it, it makes sense – the evil mess never quite stays the way I brush it in the mornings. So if anything, it was her fault for giving me these crappy genes in the first place.

"Dad!" I whined as she went for my hair again and I made an attempt to squirm away from her.

He sighed and put down the newspaper he'd been reading. "Alright, you two, stop it."

I gave him a sarcastic look. "That's helpful."

"Don't be cheeky with me, Petal." That was dad's nickname for me. Though I'd gotten too old to be able to admit it, I felt a jolt of nostalgia whenever I heard the name. It reminded me of all the good times from when I was younger.

He muttered something under his breath as he was undoing his seatbelt.

"Change seats with me."

Yeah! Window seat!

And it worked, mum left me alone. She was too busy picking on dad now. I grinned at him when he looked over at me with a pathetic look on his face. In an effort to show some support and gratitude, I gave him two thumbs up and mouthed a "thanks".

One of the flight attendants had made her way over to our seats with a trolley of sorts trailing quietly behind her. It was big and barely fit into the area between the seats she was making her way through, but she had somehow managed not to bump into anything. There were numerous magazines, cups and other utensils nestled into each level of the trolley, all stacked neatly to impress passengers into purchasing them. With her brunette hair pulled up in a tight bun and a smile that never seemed to falter, the flight attendant leaned over in a charming manner and asked kindly if we'd like something to drink or read.

Mmm, hot chocolate sounded so good.

I tried to think, but I'd never heard of that beverage being served on a flight before. Maybe they had some secret magical hot chocolate fountain hidden away for special occasions? Or better yet, a mutant that could create hot chocolate with the gesture of a hand. What? A chocaholic could dream!

I stared at the flight attendant with a hopeful look. "Do you do hot chocolate?"

My mum looked at me sternly. "No, Lauren, you're on a diet. You know those drinks are just full of sugar and that'll go straight to your bum. And sorry, darling, but that's an area you really can't afford to have any more stuffing on." She ignored my protests and turned to the lady with a smile on her face. "Sorry, dear. Yes, I'd like some coffee with milk and sugar, please. And water for these two, no gas," she gestured towards us.

The lady nodded with the same smile still stuck on her lips. Her hands moved about the trolley confidently and quickly as she put together mum's order, never losing her poise in the process. She wasn't new, I could tell that much. Once the payment was collected, she wished us a delightful flight and advanced to the next seats, offering drinks and snacks to the passengers. She didn't look it, but I knew that flight attendant thought we were either crazy or really weird. Either way, that was embarrassing.

Alright, yes, so I was on a diet. But it was mum's idea and she was supposed to be in it with me. She said it might help me control my powers since healthy foods would balance my energy levels better, but I was quite sure it was just a sneaky way of saying I should lose some weight. And there she was, treating herself to coffee, that hypocrite! With sugar, mind you! Lots of it! She'd been driving me crazy with her stupid "healthy fruit and veggie drinks" the past few months because she claimed both of us could benefit from it and ... well, quite frankly, the horrendous lack of chocolate was killing me. Mum and her stupid ... hot, tasty-looking drink. _Argh, what's wrong with me? I don't even like coffee!_

I turned towards the window and concentrated on the view as the plane ascended and tipped slightly, altering its position. 11 more hours of being bored. Fantastic. I wished we could just be there already.

Hearing the rustle of thin paper turned my attention towards my parents again. That sound could only mean one thing! And it was exactly what I'd hoped for. Dad had managed to get enough peace to return to his newspaper, which meant mum should be in the process of reading some silly lady magazine or one of her thick romance novels. That would keep her busy enough to let me read something of my own – the newest issue of one of my favourite comic books. I'd been keeping it hidden underneath my shirt since we'd left home in hopes to sneak a few glances at it on the plane. Was this it, could I give it a try?

I leaned forward slightly, trying to secure a better view of mum through dad's mess of newspapers and tall figure – remembering in that very process how horribly short both my mother and I were. However, as soon as I caught a glimpse of her, I realised she was staring right at me with a lot of intent written in her eyes, and I froze. Oh no. Abort, abort! Mission fail! No! I had to look away before she engaged me in her crazies. If I played dead, would she ignore me?

"Don't think you'll get away with those rubbish magazines of yours, Lauren."

_Lauren? Who's Lauren? Not me. My name's Petal. Now go back to reading, you crazy evil lady, so I can page through my sweet, sweet precious!_

Despite sounding dangerously like an obsessed, withered away hobbit, I wished I could've said that. Instead I let out a series of grumbles and reached for the hidden comic book, which she gladly snatched away.

My initial plan had been to ensure she was distracted, then attempt to hide the comic book in some of dad's newspaper – he wouldn't mind. Although I suppose that would've aroused more suspicion than anything, seeing as I'm not very keen on reading newspapers. Well, then again, I had always liked the little silly drawings of ... wait, how did she know what I was up to? It was eerie moments like these that made me think about the possibility of her being a mind reader.

"Here, I brought one of these for you," she said, talking about the two books on her lap. In an instant, one of them – a rather large book with an awkwardly colourful cover that read _The Storm Of Young Love_ – appeared in front of dad's face as she attempted to hand it to me, not caring that she was obstructing his view. I took it in defeat, but slowly, careful not to touch her in the process, then muttered a "Thank you." Dad had gotten so used to us, he didn't protest or react very much to what was happening. Maybe that was his own tactic of playing dead. Smart man.

I looked down at my now occupied lap. The colourful cover that was glaring up at me turned out to be a picture of two lovers – a man and a woman – in an embrace, clad in all kinds of horrible mutated colours. Their skin looked awfully orange, no doubt an effect of neglect and the book's old age. I felt myself wanting to dive into the world of my superheroes instead, where I could fight on their side in order to create peace for the cities it entailed.

Dad started involving me in the world of comic books before I could even read and they became a big part of my life. The action and drawings kept me entertained, and all the things I could dream of being when I grew up were nestled all over the pages, neatly hidden in my favourite superheroes. Strength, intelligence, good looks, superpowers, friendships, a gorgeous lover and even an arch enemy that spiced up their lives; they had it all.

Or so I thought before my own brand of superpowers surfaced a couple of months ago. It doesn't even feel that far away; to be honest, it feels more like the accident was only a few days ago, a week at most. I still get that dreadful feeling when I think back on what had happened – or rather what I had made happen – it feels fresh and almost as unbearable as it did on that day. The idea of being a superhero turned horrible in a matter of seconds and I soon realised that, even in a world of mutants, I wasn't destined to become someone great that was there for others. I'd achieved one of my dreams – powers – but in my hands lay the tools of uncertainty and chaos, and who'd want _that_?

So that day, I ran from what I'd done. I ran as fast as I could. Because at that moment, I didn't know what to do or what to think about. All I _could_ do was make my way home because, unlike the superheroes with their protected fortresses and labs, I didn't have anywhere else to go. And I didn't stop to consider that going home might also mean bringing my parents in danger or being turned in by them. Those thoughts didn't really settle until they looked at me as if I'd gone positively mad and refused to believe me. If only I _had_ gone mad. Then I wouldn't be forced to leave the place I'd called home for the past 18 years.

* * *

><p>It took us forever to get our things from the airport we arrived at, and almost equally as long to find a taxi. It was bustling with people – well, it <em>was<em> mid August, which was known to bring with it countless tourists – and I was happy to get away from it. It was quite suffocating and uncomfortable. Who'd want to have such a high invasion of personal space? Fortunately, it didn't take us too long to get to our main destination, even though we had to stop to register our arrival in the US on the way to the institute.

And there we were, at Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters. As soon as I got out of the car, I felt a wave of nervousness wash over me. The big gate was construing my view of the building somewhat, but I could see it was enormous and that made me feel somewhat small and pathetic.

I had the sudden urge to go back home.

I tried to swallow the uneasy feeling and followed my parents to the entrance of the mansion, each of us carrying some of my luggage. The door we stopped at to announce our arrival was big and very elegant. I had expected the very head of this institution to greet us, but instead, as the door opened, a boy that couldn't be much older than 12 stood there. His hair was slightly messy and dark, but he looked fairly normal, to my surprise. I'd seen mutants on the telly that were ... well, slightly odd-looking.

"Hi?" His unsure voice squeaked out.

"Hello, dear. We're here to see professor Xavier for admission to this school. Is he available, by any chance?" Mum's big smile and words seemed to melt away the sceptical looks he was giving us. He returned the smile and greeting. "I think so. Um, oh, sorry, you can come in. I'll go get him," he said once we'd entered, and0 disappeared.

The inside of the building was gorgeous and full of kids, who I guessed were students. They were walking around and chatting merrily with each other. Everything looked neat and polished, even the colours were perfectly matched and chosen to create an illusion of calm. I found myself liking all of it. As messy as I was at times, I didn't like clutter, so seeing the well-decorated insides was kind of comforting, and I found myself relaxing slightly. I supposed I could get used to this.

A beautiful woman with long white hair appeared in front of us after a couple of minutes. "Hello, you must be the Reid family. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I'm afraid professor Xavier is busy at the moment, and he sends his apologies. I'll be assisting you with all the necessary paperwork instead, and I can answer any questions you might have." She had a kind smile on her soft features, and a very pleasant voice. Not to mention, her accent was quite interesting. She didn't sound American per-se.

She extended her hand to mum. "I'm Ororo Munroe, one of the teachers here. It's a pleasure to meet you."

My mum returned the smile as they shook hands. "It's lovely to meet you, as well, Miss Munroe."

Dad shook her hand with a "How do you do?"

Finally, Miss Munroe turned to me. I had been dreading these kinds of interactions since my powers appeared.

Direct skin contact. That's one of the things that got me here in the first place.

Her hand was extended towards me, but I didn't respond to the gesture. I looked at her with the most apologetic, sincere expression I could muster. "It's a pleasure to meet you, too, but it's a better idea if I don't touch you."

Her mouth formed a perfect O and she nodded with slightly pursed lips. "I understand. Your powers are touch sensitive, then? We have a few students like that here, so don't worry about it. With some help from the professor, you'll get the hang of your powers in no time." She gave me a reassuring smile, then asked us all to follow her.

We were led down the hallway to one of the rooms. She opened it, revealing two beds and a few pieces of fairly simple furniture. It didn't look like anyone else was staying in the room, which made me immensely happy. I wasn't too keen on having to share the room.

Miss Munroe turned her head to me. "Anything you need for the bed is inside that big closet. There are some extra blankets in it in case you get cold. Go ahead and make yourself at home. I'm going to steal your parents for a while so we can finish some paperwork, but we'll be back in a jiffy."

Good, I didn't have to sit through a boring session of nodding and smiling for what felt like an hour.

I started to unpack what I'd brought with me. Clothes, a few books, writing utensils and some other things. It all got its place in the room. It didn't take me too long to put everything away, though, and I was left with nothing to do. That meant my mind wandered back to thinking about just how ridiculous this situation was. The same uneasy feeling arose in my stomach. Was all of this really happening?

In a few minutes, my parents joined me in my room. Dad ended up standing awkwardly at the door while mum sat down beside me and started to give me lectures about how to behave and to keep in touch with them. As she was advising me to be safe, she looked like she was going to cry, which made me cringe. I'd just turned 18 at the start of August this year, but she was treating me like an 8-year-old. She really knew how to make me feel like it, too.

"Mum, please don't cry," I said awkwardly, not quite sure how to pacify her, "you'll be here for one more week, right? So you can call or even visit me here for whatever crazy reason," I finished the last few words of the sentence in a mutter. Knowing her, she'd end up coming over here every single day.

There was nothing more uncomfortable and embarrassing than one of my parents crying. It made me feel so awkward. Luckily, mum managed to keep calm, and, instead of tears, let out a shaky sigh. "Lauren, you can stay with us while we're here, yeah? You can come back once we leave for London."

"No, I think it's better if I stay here. I'd rather be with you two than strangers, but what am I supposed to do? I'm dangerous and the longer I stay around people without some help, the bigger the chances of, umm..."

"Accidents?"

I sighed. "Yeah, alright. That works. Look, just go and have fun with dad. And make sure to take lots of pictures for me, yeah?"

After a few more minutes of awkward conversation and lingering, they were finally ready to leave. Having them with me honestly made me feel kind of weak. The longer they stayed, the more I felt like crying and begging them to take me back to England. Pathetic, I know, especially considering my age. But I never said I was a strong person, did I?

Miss Munroe was with me when we escorted my parents outside and said our goodbyes. She had a very reassuring look on her face when she gazed at me with her big brown eyes. It made me feel a bit better, and I felt glad she was with me.

"If you need anything, you can turn to me, okay? My door is always open for you. I know it can get a bit scary, being in a new place with new people."

"Thank you, Miss Munroe," I said with a weak smile.

"You can call me Storm. No need to be so formal," she grinned. "seeing as you're technically family now."

Storm? I liked that. And I wished I could tell her to call me something other than Lauren, but I didn't think Petal was quite so ... well, clever, for a lack of a better term.

"Storm it is. You can call me Lauren."

"Alright, Lauren. What about a glass of lemonade to celebrate your arrival?"

Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.


End file.
